


Conflict of Interest

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Series: Plaid and Platinum [2]
Category: Dark City (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, M/M, May/December Romance, Older Man/Younger Man, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you seduce the manager after you've made it into the band, then it isn't considered sleeping your way in... right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflict of Interest

 

  
**Conflict of Interest**   
  


***

            I'd promised myself very early on that I wasn't going to sleep with anyone in the music business. Well, at least as long as I knew they were in the music business. The sexual explorations of my teenage years were wide and varied, and there was probably more than a few musicians in there. My parents were in the music business, though at the opposite ends of the scale - my mother played first violin for the Chicago symphony orchestra, and my father, after a stint as the bassist of a hair band in the 80's, was the venue manager for one of the biggest Indies live houses in the city. I'd seen people try to sleep their way to the top and swore it would never be me, that I'd never need to sell myself that way to get ahead. I'd practically been born with a bass in my hand; I could get by just on hard work and talent.

            I never had any trouble sticking to my guns until I met Frank Bumstead.

            He was a friend of my fathers, which normally wouldn't say much - everyone curried favour with him, from musicians to roadies to record labels to other venue owners. But Frank and my father had worked fairly closely together when I was a boy, when Frank was producing his first band. They'd been all girl grunge-rock band that got their start at my father's live house before going on to make a decent splash worldwide, producing five best selling albums over ten years before a very public, messy breakup that involved the lead singer getting pregnant with a high ranking politician and the drummer joining a convent.

            There were rumours of Frank's new involvement with the remaining members of a New York based Rock Band called 'The Reflections', but I'd written it off. Music was always full of rumours, and that particular band - while musically solid and quite enjoyable - had broken up with far too much drama for me to believe in any kind of a comeback. I'd written it off until I saw Frank at the bar with my father one night, barely a month after my high school graduation. I was on stage, stepping in for the bassist of the band that was performing that night while their actual bassist was passed out back stage. It was something I ended up doing fairly often, playing last minute gigs with ragged sheet music, joining cover bands and playing at open mic nights. My mother had been a little disappointed that I'd chosen to fall in love with my father's world instead of hers, but she let me follow my heart.

            I didn't think much of Frank's presence, focused on the set list. I didn't think much at all until I met him with my father backstage after the performance. Then I suddenly found myself wondering how in the hell I'd never realized how good looking the man was. Perhaps it was age - the Frank I'd remembered from when I was younger had been in his late twenties and still trying to make a name for himself, doing so by running himself to the ground. He always seemed overworked and underfed. Now he was older - probably in his mid to late thirties, younger than my father by about ten years - and he seemed more confident and serene. Distinguished.

            All of my weaknesses all rolled into one.

            "Leon." My father smiled and nodded towards Frank. "You remember Frank Bumstead, don't you?"

            "Of course." I took Frank's offered hand, shaking it firmly with a smile and resisting the urge to let my fingers linger on his. My mind was already racing with thoughts fuelled by an eighteen year old libido, wondering if he liked men and if he liked younger men and if I was his type and what he'd be like in bed, and I pushed them all away with great effort to listen to him.

            "I was wondering if you'd like to come to an audition with me in New York," Frank was saying. "I'm working with some very promising musicians that need a bassist, and I think you'd be a good fit."

            "The remaining members of 'The Reflections', right?"

            Frank looked impressed, and I tried not to mentally congratulate myself. "I should have expected that Bruce's son would already have a good handle on the music world. Are you interested?"

            That wasn't all I wanted to have a good handle on. I only thought for a moment before answering - truthfully, I'd spent the last few years trying to decide if I wanted to give the musician’s lifestyle a go. I'd seen too many failed musicians fall along the wayside and I liked it in Chicago, and it was comfortable helping with my father's live house. But I'd liked The Reflections' style, and I knew enough about the business to know that with Frank's past successes and the band's reputation that they had a very good chance of making it big.

            Plus. Frank. Yum.

            I grinned. "When do we leave?"

 

            As much as certain parts of me were convinced that the best course of action was to try and get into Frank's pants as soon as possible, I managed to maintain my principles on the trip out to New York. The other band members and I clicked surprisingly well, musically and personally - of course it didn't help that two of them loved cock as much as I did. Larry was the band's drummer, and while the little publicity material I'd seen of 'The Reflections' put him in the back seat to both the ex-vocalist and the band's leader and guitarist, Ben Carson, I was surprised to find that he was as much a part of the band's creative process as Ben. He was as playful as Ben was serious, and I liked him immediately. He was also more than a little flamboyant, though in public he put on a better straight act than any straight man I'd ever met.

            The newcomer was John, a very talented vocalist with a classical background that Larry had picked up in a bath house lounge. I had a pretty good idea what that would have entailed, but said nothing of it. There didn't seem to be anything between the two now other than an easy friendship, and it seemed that the three of them had a working relationship that was the perfect mix between personal and professional. John was sunny and optimistic to the point of almost seeming a bit airheaded at times, but when he started to sing I had no doubt that he was the perfect man to put stadiums full of people under his spell

            It was Ben Carson that I clicked best with professionally, however. I'd met hundreds, if not thousands of guitarists in the course of my young life, both ones that wrote their own material and ones that merely mastered the work of other composers. They ranged from little more than pompous hacks to truly talented musicians, and Ben was a shining example of the latter. I respected that the man's only vices other than the music itself seemed to be alcohol and cigarettes, and his compositions were inspired - solid, catchy melodies with intricate instrumentals, and to top it all off, he even wrote bass lines that were genuinely challenging. I'd long been of the opinion that the bass guitar was one of the most under-utilized instruments in rock music; most bass lines consisted of the same four notes played over and over in a simple rhythm, but Ben's work gave the bass just as active a role as the guitar, and I adored it. He'd been the one to put me through my paces during the audition, watching me critically as my fingers moved over my bass's frets, well-muscled arms folded across his chest and eyes narrowed slightly as he took it all in. He was handsome - they all were - but Ben was the kind of rugged masculinity I normally went for, and had I not been so taken with their manager I would have thought it a shame that the man was straight

            Two months later I'd rented a little loft apartment fairly close to the studio and rehearsal space that Ben's father owned, a permanent member of the new band we'd named 'A Single Syringe'. My life became a whirlwind of weekend concerts, playing 'The Reflections' old material and our own as we wrote it, performing for bars packed full of old fans of 'The Reflections' and a steadily growing following of our own. The days were spent in the studio - rehearsing, composing new material, and then finally recording our first singles. Ben was still the primary songwriter, but before long he'd let me have free reign with the bass.

            We worked well together. And that "We" included Frank. While he and Ben often seemed to be at odds, I quickly realized that it was a carefully balanced relationship. They both knew how to push each other, and they both needed it, but they seemed to have a good understanding of when to pull back. Ben was extremely passionate about his music, and I could see how that passion had made 'The Reflections' successful. Frank was calm and quietly strong, a perfect foil for Ben's passion, pushing it in the right direction.

            God, it made me hard.

            I was patient, with Frank. I knew I'd have to be. He was the very picture of professionalism and propriety. And yet... I'd catch him looking at me, sometimes. Not with any kind of obvious desire, but his eyes lingered on me more than anyone else, almost as if he wasn't consciously doing it. He'd never expressed his sexuality one way or the other, but he didn't show any interest at all in women. I seemed to be the only thing that could distract him.  It was enough to encourage me, paired with an eighteen-year-old's confidence in his own desirability.

            I caught him alone in the studio late at night, when the others had gone out drinking. Frank had stayed behind in the control room, as dressed down as I ever saw him - dark grey suit and light blue dress shirt, the tie stripes of gray and muted plum, neatly tied in a double Windsor. He'd draped the jacket of the suit over the back of the chair he lounged in, eyes closed to the music coming through a large pair of headphones. For a moment I just stood in the doorway of the control room, watching him. I wondered how he'd react if I simply leaned in and kissed him, draping myself over his lap before he could react. Tempting, but too much of a push. Instead I perched on the edge of the table, leaning forward to pull one side of the headphones from his ear. "You shouldn't work so hard."

            I'd expected him to be startled, but Frank was as unruffled as ever. He looked up at me, meeting my gaze evenly as he pushed the headphones back to rest around his neck. "I thought you all went out drinking."

            "They did. I had another engagement."

            "Oh?"

            I took a deep breath. "Dinner with you."

            For a moment Frank simply stared at me with the same impartial mask he wore when he was listening to us play, mind ablaze behind it. When he answered the words were careful. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm good for dinner."

            Professional, appropriate, and completely what I expected. I pushed a little farther. "Then we'll skip dinner and go back to my apartment."

            That got a reaction. Frank leaned back just a little, mouth tightening. "Leon..."

            "I know you want to," I continued, leaning closer in response to his pulling back. "I've seen the way you look at me. I want it too. Come home with me."

            Frank seemed more than a little flustered. He slipped out of the chair and stood, forgetting the headphones around his neck, and the cord yanked from the soundboard to flood the room with our latest work. "Dammit." He yanked the headphones off, typing a few commands into the laptop that was hooked up to the soundboard to stop the music. "Leon, I'm not going home with you."

            "Why not?" It wasn't that I'd expected Frank to just roll over and give in like men usually did, but I hadn't expected such stalwart refusal. "I'm not offering this because you're the manager or anything. You already got me into the band."

            "I have no desire for a thank you fuck either," he replied coolly, picking up his jacket and slipping it on.

            I tried not to let the comment sting. "Good, because neither do I. I like you."

            Frank's look was just shy of scathing. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm almost twice your age."

            I straightened, quirking an eyebrow in a way that I hoped was inviting, giving him a smile. "Yes. And I happen to like older men." I let my voice lower, and wet my lips, watching his eyes dart to my mouth as I did. "I really like older men."

            I saw Frank's fingers curl into fists at his sides, then unclench slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath before exhaling and looking back to me. "Leon. I'm flattered. I am. But I'm not sleeping with you."

            He definitely sounded like he meant it, and it was hard to keep disappointment out of my voice. "Why not?"

            Frank sighed again. "Look... I knew you when you were ten...."

            "And I'm eighteen now. It's not like you're taking advantage of me. I've been with plenty of men before, and older ones than you."

            "Does your father know about this?"

            I shrugged. "Not specifics, but he knows I'm gay. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me or anything. I just think we should stop skirting around the desire we've both felt since you brought me here."

            He didn't deny it, which was a hopeful sign. But he didn't answer me either, heading for the door of the control room. "I'm afraid I need to head home for the night. Take care, Leon."

            "Why don't you want me?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself, my voice almost embarrassingly plaintive. "Frank...."

            Frank stopped in the doorway, giving a soft sigh before turning back. "I didn't say that. Don't think that, Leon. But I can't risk the future of this band on a tryst. I'm sorry."

            The future of the band? I gave my head a little shake. "I don't understand."

            "Let me tell you what happens when people who work together have a relationship," Frank started, watching me carefully. "Everything starts out fine, but as much as you say that everything will stay professional, that work will stay separate from personal life, it's impossible. Something always happens, someone always gets hurt, and everything goes to hell. You're a damn good fit with the band and I'm not about to risk that."

            I opened my mouth, and then closed it again, trying to think through his answer. "I'm not asking for a relationship. I just... what's wrong with two adults having consenting, casual sex?"

            Frank looked almost sad at that, sighing softly as he brought a hand up to cup my face. He looked tired, and suddenly overwhelmingly tender as he returned my gaze. "Nothing. The problem is that nothing I had with you could ever just be casual, Leon." He brushed my lips with his thumb, soft and lingering, and then stepped back. "Have a good night."

            For a long moment I could only stare at his retreating form, playing his words over in my mind. "Oh," I said to no-one in particular, and raised a hand to touch my lips.

            I hadn't thought of anything beyond sex with him up until now, but with those simple words this ceased to be about whether or not I was getting laid tonight. I tried to ignore it, but from the sudden, longing ache in my heart I knew that my relationship with Frank Bumstead was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.

 

            The next few weeks of my life were agonizing. It had been difficult enough living with my desire for him without acting on it, but now things were completely different. Now every time I saw him my pulse would race and my stomach would start doing flip flops and I just... I just wanted him to smile at me. It was beautiful and infuriating all at once to not be able to control the way I felt. This was supposed to just be really hot casual sex. Nothing more. Not that he wanted any of that, either.

            I switched between working my ass off and just kind of being distractedly present, torn between wanting to impress him and just wanting to forget him, but it was impossible. I even stopped going out with Larry after one attempt at a night of picking up men for kinky, meaningless sex at one of New York's finest bath houses. It suddenly felt shallow and meaningless. It wasn't what I wanted.

            It didn't help that Frank was so damn nice to me. He quietly praised my work and pushed me harder with gentle encouragements, softening the hard critique he normally gave the band. He'd touch me - a hand on my shoulder as we looked over bass tabs, a pat on the back, and if I'd been convinced he was watching me before now there was no question of it. Now I could see the longing and regret behind his gaze and it drove me crazy.

            "You doing all right, Leon?" Larry tugged me aside one night when we were leaving the studio, lighting up a cigarette. I didn't smoke, but starting had never been more tempting. "It's been a pretty gruelling schedule we've been keeping lately, you seem a bit stressed."

            "I'm fine," I replied with a little shake of my head. I suddenly wanted to tell him everything, to let it all spill out just to get it off my chest. But that would only make things more complicated. "It's just... a personal issue. I won't let it affect the band."

            He looked a little more worried at that, taking a long drag of the cigarette. "Anything I can do?"

            I gave a soft laugh and shook my head again. "I wish you could."

            "Need to hook up? Might take your mind off things. We can go out tonight if you want."

            The idea made my stomach churn. "I think I'm in love," I blurted before I could stop myself. "I don't know what to do. Do you know how to stop loving someone you can't have?"

            Larry gave a slow nod, at once understanding and a little sad. "Wish I could help you there. It's a blessing and a curse, love."

            I gave a soft sigh. "Thanks anyway. I think I'm just going to... I don't know, take my bass home and call it an early night."

            "All right. Give me a call if you need me, okay?"

            I felt a little guilty ditching out on him - John had stopped going out with us a few weeks before, giving a multitude of excuses that I was pretty sure boiled down to a new boyfriend that he didn't want us to know about, leaving Larry on his own. I smiled and gave a nod. "Yeah, I will. Thanks, Larry."

            I turned back for the studio to pick up my bass, slipping inside quietly. Most of the lights had been turned down other than the one in the control room, and I'd been about to flick them back on when I heard music. Not ours, but rather the hum of an accordion, the melody slow and sweet and sad. I'd seen an accordion boxed up in the studio, neatly tucked away, but I hadn't thought it was one of our instruments....

            I approached the door quietly, surprised to find Frank bent over the instrument, fingers freezing on the keys as he caught sight of me in the doorway.

            "Don't stop because of me," I said, suddenly wanting him to continue. "It's lovely. I didn't know you played."

            "It helps me think," he said slowly, watching me as he did. "Was there something you needed, Leon?"

            You, I wanted to say. Instead I just shook my head. "No. No, I just... I just came back for my bass. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

            Frank closed the bellows on the accordion, the instrument letting out a soft sign as he did, buckling it shut and placing it back in its case on the floor. "You haven't been yourself lately."

            I gave a helpless little shrug. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't know if I can continue to work like this."

            Frank froze half way to his feet, staring at me for a moment before slowly straightening. His voice was low and rough when he finally spoke. "Are you thinking about leaving the band?"

            "No. I don't know. I...." I folded my arms across my chest just for something to hold onto, fingers clenched on my elbows. "I can't stop thinking about you. I'm miserable when we're apart and I'm worse when we're together because I know I can't be with you."

            He sighed softly, still making no move to step closer to me. "I'm sorry. I should have just told you that I didn't want you."

            "I would have known it was a lie," I replied with a little shake of my head. "I'm sorry, I - I didn't mean to fall in love with you."

            "You're not in love with me," he replied, a little too quickly. "This is lust, an infatuation, you're not - "

            "Then why does it hurt to be away from you?" I was saying too much, I knew, leaving myself vulnerable and exposed, but I couldn't keep it bottled up anymore. "I know you think I'm just a silly little boy who can't keep it in his pants but this isn't just about sex anymore. I need you. I can't stop thinking about you." I stopped to run my hands over my face, palms pressing into my eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

            I felt Frank's hand on my shoulder, tentative and gentle. "Will you leave if nothing is resolved between us?"

            "Why? You going to fuck me to get me to stay?" The words were harsh, and I saw him wince, the warm weight of his hand on my shoulder falling away.

            "I wouldn't do that."

            I gave my head a little shake. "I'm sorry. I know. I just... tell me what to do, Frank."

            He glanced away. "Find a nice young man and forget about whatever you feel for me."

            "I've tried that already."

            He gave a soft, helpless laugh, staring out into the darkened studio through the glass. "If we do this you know what will happen when we break up, don't you? One of us will end up leaving. It'll break the band apart."

            "Then don't leave me," I answered, reaching out to touch his sleeve. "Can't we just be together?"

            "Leon, you're eighteen. You need to be finding your way in the world, not saddling yourself with some old - "

            "You're not old!" I cut him off before I could continue. "Maybe I'm sick of being eighteen and sleeping around. Maybe I'm done with my sexual experimentation. Maybe I just want to find my way in the world with you." I could feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes and blinked them away in frustration. "You told me that you could never have a casual relationship with me. Can you tell me what that means? If you don't want me, if you don't care for me then just tell me now so I can deal with my broken heart."

            What I didn't expect was to be pulled into Frank's arms, pulled tight against his chest, enfolded in the warmth and strength of his embrace. I drew a shuddering breath and sagged against him, catching the back of his coat in my fingers and holding tight. Frank smelled warm and rich, like leather and musk and spice all at once, and I pressed my face to his neck, just trying to breathe. I felt Frank's lips press softly to the top of my ear, his breath warm against my skin as one hand stroked slowly over my hair and down my spine, the other still keeping me tightly in place. "Shhh. I want you. God, I want you. And I care for you too much. I don't want to screw this up."

            I wanted to ask him what this was, but at the same time I was afraid he'd push me away. "I just want to be with you," I murmured, voice almost a whimper, and I felt him shudder against me. His fingers didn't stop, though, stroking over my hair and down my back, over and over.

            "I don't want to screw this up," he murmured again, voice thick with desire. "You're so beautiful, you're so sweet. God, you're father's going to skin me alive."

            "I won't tell if you don't," I replied, my heart pounding almost painfully in my chest. "Frank...."

            "One month." Frank pulled back to look at me, blue eyes intent. "Let me court you, let me woo you. If you still want this after a month then we can do whatever you want."

            I tried to take in his words, my heart beating fast. "I don't understand. A month? But... you've already wooed me."

            Frank smiled then, soft and warm and sweet, one hand slipping to cup my cheek. "Just because two people desire each other doesn't necessarily mean they'll have a successful relationship. I want to get to know you outside of work. I also don't believe in sex on a first date. You can call me old fashioned, if you like."

            "A month with no sex?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, sounding far more mournful than I intended.

            Frank gave a soundless chuckle, and then leaned in to press his lips to the soft skin under my ear. "I'll make it worth the wait," he murmured, low and promising, and god if that didn't go straight to my cock. I gave a soft whimper despite myself, and Frank pulled back, still smiling, brushing his thumb against my lips. "That is, if you think this is worth waiting for."

            "I do," I replied without hesitation, my lips parting under his touch. Every inch of my body cried out for more sensation, and I couldn't imagine waiting another month, but somehow I had to pull this through. "You are."

            "Thank you." Frank's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me wet my lips, then his fingers tightened ever so slightly on my jaw, urging my face to his as he leaned in to bring our mouths together. The press of his lips was warm and secure and yearning, claiming my lips with the gentle caress of his own, with a flick of his tongue to my skin. I yielded without hesitation, lips parting to his with a soft groan, revelling in the taste of his mouth, the slide of his tongue against my own. It made me want to climb into his skin, to touch and please every part of him, and when he pulled back I whimpered softly.

            I could see him visibly restrain himself, eyes dark with desire. "Just give me one month. Then I'll give you everything you want. I promise."

            I let out a long breath, trying to calm myself. "Thirty one days, or thirty? Or four weeks?"

            Frank laughed softly. "Thirty days from today."

            My mind did the math. "We'll be in Baltimore opening for The Chester Stevens Band."

            A little smile played on the corners of his mouth. "I'll make sure you can still walk when I'm done with you."

            Oh fuck. I tried not to show the shudder of arousal that ran through me at his words. "All right."

            Frank gave a little nod, thumb brushing my lips again as he pulled back to turn to the soundboard, shutting off the laptop and powering everything down. "Dinner?"

            "I'd love dinner," I replied, and left the studio with him, smiling at the warmth of his hand on the small of my back.

            It was after midnight by the time I finally returned to my apartment, well fed and completely charmed and harder than I'd ever been in my life. Frank had walked me up to my apartment, pressing me up against the door and stealing my breath with kisses, the press of his lips and the warmth of his body leaving me flushed and aching and desperate for more. I'd thought for a moment that I could tempt him inside, but he'd merely smiled, touching my lips before pulling back. "Twenty nine days. Goodnight, Leon."

            Curled in bed with my fingers wrapped around my own cock, I jerked myself to thoughts of his kisses and thought that this was going to be the longest month of my life.

 

            Frank wasn't into flowers - well they didn't really work well with the whole 'discreet' angle - but I began to find things tucked into my bass case, starting with a new set of strings for my six string electric. They weren't all that common, and I wondered where he'd found them on such short notice.

            "Thank you," I said, catching him alone in the control room after I'd found them.

            Frank glanced up at me and quirked an eyebrow. "For?"

            I felt my cheeks heat up a little. "The strings."

            He gave a little smile. "You have new strings?"

            I laughed softly. "Frank...."

            He chuckled, covering my hand with his own for a moment where it sat by the soundboard, giving it a light squeeze. "You're welcome."

            "You don't have to buy me things...."

            He gave a little nod. "Noted. But I like to. Are we still on for tonight?"

            I nodded. "Twenty five days."

            Frank looked amused. "Are you crossing them off on a calendar?"

            "You know I am."

            He smiled, patting my hand lightly before pulling back. "Thank you for indulging me. I'm really enjoying our time together."

            I was too, I realized. The trysts I'd had with older men in the past were just that - trysts, casual sex with very little pillow talk. I'm not sure we would have had much to talk about beyond the really hot sex anyway. It was refreshing to have so much in common with Frank even with the age difference. Regardless of the fact that I was so much younger, I'd been involved with my father's venue since I was young enough to run around backstage and get in people's way. His world was my world, too. When we were done in the studio and the others had left, Frank would take me out to a small lounge or a restaurant, small and casual and comfortable where I generally didn't have to show my fake ID to enjoy a glass of wine with the meal. We'd talk far later than we should, about the bands I'd worked with, the bands he'd worked with, about being on tour. Anything and everything. I loved listening to him speak, soaking up his experiences, one hand clasped in his under the table.

            Our goodnight kisses only grew more heated as the days went on. I'd managed to talk him into the entryway of my apartment - it really wasn't all that safe to be making out in the building's hallway - but nothing beyond that. Frank had an incredible amount of willpower, and things would inevitably end with a soft kiss on my forehead, a brush of his fingers against my lips and a gentle goodnight. It was agonizing and infuriating and only made me want him more.

            The next thing to appear in my bass case was a package of fret board cleaning and conditioning cloths with soft cotton knit cloths for buffing, which I had to admit were rather badly needed. I took one immediately and set to work on the neck of my six-string, loosening the strings and using one of the small squares of cleaning cloth to clean away the accumulated dirt and oils underneath that inevitably built up on the frets from play. It wasn't the easiest way to clean it, but I wasn't ready to change out the strings entirely yet.

            Frank perched beside me, the case for my semi-acoustic bass in hand. "Mind if I help?"

            I gave him a warm smile. "Thank you. If you're not busy..."

            "We're here early," he replied, taking the bass out of its case and loosening the strings with practiced ease. The semi-acoustic was a fairly new acquisition, a top of the line Godin A-series that my mother had ordered down from Canada as a gift for my eighteenth birthday, and it meant more to me than I'd ever expected. It was her blessing on my choice to pursue rock and roll, and while my move to New York hadn't been without tears, she was proud of what we were doing. The Godin could sound almost like an upright bass when it was plugged in to an amp, and while I'd experimented with it a lot at home I'd only just started putting it into use in composition with Ben. It was strangely intimate to see Frank with my semi-acoustic, nimble fingers wiping down the frets with the conditioning cloth before taking one of the cotton knit cloths to begin to buff the neck.

            "You've done this before?" I asked, setting aside my own cleaning cloth and trying not to think about how much dirt and tarnish was on it as I began to buff the wood and frets.

            "Part of being a manager is doing what needs doing," Frank said, looking over at me with a smile. "I enjoy it. They're beautiful instruments."

            "You never thought about playing yourself?"

            "I did a little, when I was younger. But my strength is keeping things running, so that's what I do."

            I heard a voice behind me before I could reply. "There are so many things I could say about this scene."

            I jumped at the sound of John's voice from the studio door, turning and smiling as the rest of the band came in from their usual carpool. "Good morning!"

            Larry set a tray of coffee down on the side table. "I suppose it is a bit... phallic."

            "Polishing Leon's bass?" John grinned at our manager and waggled his eyebrows, and I felt my cheeks heat up self-consciously.

            Frank took the jibe without flinching, completely cool. "Are you jealous that you can't polish your instrument, Murdoch?"

            "I am," John replied without batting an eyelash. "Also, my instrument is rather small and very thin at one end."

            "Clearly I have the biggest instrument," Larry replied, handing a cup of coffee to Ben before taking a seat behind his drums, to which Ben sighed and shook his head.

            "Multiple instruments," John agreed, grinning. "Of various shapes and sizes for different situations."

            "They're quite thick and squat though," Frank pointed out, keeping a completely straight face as he tightened the strings on my semi-acoustic. "And I hear he doesn't clean them as much as he should."

            "He does beat them quite often, though," John pointed out through a toothy grin.

            I couldn't hold back laughter, and even Ben was smirking from behind his cup of coffee. Frank set my bass guitar back in its case, leaving it for me to tune, heading for the control room. "All right, you bunch of perverts. Let’s get to work."

            Later that afternoon we had our first costume fitting in one of the workrooms at the New York Fashion Institute of Technology. I'd met our costumer, Ben's younger brother Daniel, twice: once when we did the initial designs for these costumes, and once when he went through my closet, made a very small pile of things I was allowed to wear on stage, to interviews, or anywhere I might possibly be recognized, and immediately afterward took me shopping. Apparently the process had been much the same for the other members of the band, though John and Larry were tall enough to inherit two of the prototype pieces from his fall collection. Daniel was incredibly detailed and discerning and very talented at what he did, and while I'd never considered wearing the kind of clothes we bought, I had to admit that it was pretty sexy. I liked him immediately.

            The inspiration for these costumes had been the pearl gray seersucker suit that John had taken from Daniel's previous work - all asymmetric cuts and clean, well-fitted lines paired with grungy black appliqués and printed designs. Mine was a suit vest and matching slacks over a black short sleeved dress shirt, the grunge on the suit limited to the right front panel of the vest, the left leg of the slacks and my tie. I took the garment bag from Daniel and stripped down to my boxers, buttoning the shirt on before stepping into the slacks... and finding that they were not so much slacks. "Um, Daniel?"

            Daniel turned from where he was helping John on with his jacket. He was always a little more attentive to John, though I didn't think he meant to be. Perhaps there was some attraction there. I certainly wouldn't blame him, between John's voice and his pretty green eyes and dark curls. "Ah, the shorts."

            "Shorts?" I stared at him, eyebrows knit. "I thought you said I wasn't allowed to wear shorts on stage."

            "Baggy boarder shorts, definitely not. Tailored dress shorts, well... let's see." He pushed my hands away from the waistband of the shorts, doing up the button and zipper deftly, then handing me my vest and tie. "Put those on, let me see the whole picture."

            I tucked the tie under my collar and tightened it, then buttoned the vest over top, checking out the ensemble in the full length mirror attached to the wall . "I like the shorts, it just surprised me. I thought I was wearing slacks."

            "I wanted more variation of levels, and it was too close to Ben's outfit," Daniel explained, stepping back and looking me over critically. It was true, though Ben's vest was double-breasted, the grunge print on the lapels and the bottoms of his slacks, and his dress shirt was long-sleeved to cover his tattoos. Daniel gave a little approving nod. "Good. Perfect jail bait."

            Frank made a little choking sound where he stood at the door. "Excuse me?"

            "It's best to have everyone embody a role," Daniel said, glancing over at him. "Pensive, sexy, upbeat. Cute. Leon is perfect for cute."

            "I don't think it's the best idea to present him as jailbait to older... women. It's not really our target audience...." Frank said slowly, and I gave him a toothy grin, wondering if it was the idea of me in shorts or the idea of me being jail bait that had rattled him more.

            "Not necessarily jailbait," Daniel assured him. "Just young and cute. He's already popular with the high school girls. Perhaps we should encourage that?"

            I was? I gave a little shrug. "I like it."

            Frank sighed, but gave a little nod. "However you think is best."

            I didn't ask him about it until later that night as I unlocked the door to my apartment, stepping inside. "So... was it the shorts or the jailbait this afternoon?"

            Frank froze behind me for a moment before catching himself, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "Pardon me?"

            "This afternoon. At the fitting." I tugged him closer to me, slipping my arms up around his neck and giving a soft sigh at the closeness I'd been craving all day. "Was it me in shorts, or the idea of me as jailbait that distracted you?"

            Frank glanced away, but his hands stroked over my hips as he did, pulling me closer. "Both," he admitted, voice a little hoarse, leaning in to nuzzle my hair, and I felt a shudder of desire run through me. I tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair, arching up against him, giving a soft moan at the press of one splayed hand to the small of my back, holding me close.

            "You like that I'm young, don't you?" I half gasped the words as he started to press warm kisses along my jaw, tilting my head back for him.. "Just like my weakness for older gentlemen. I'm just this innocent young thing...."

            "Leon..." Frank's voice was a mix of helplessness and desire, pressing me back against the wall of my front entry as his mouth moved down my neck, sucking and nipping hungrily at the skin, a tease of pain that only aroused me more.

            I arched against him, groaning as his hands slipped down to clench at my ass, holding me to him, and the press of his hips to my aching erection through my cargos was agonizingly good. "Oh god. That's it, isn't it? Turns you on that this sweet young boy is so hard for you - "

            Frank cut me off with a kiss, hard and wet and deep, his hips rocking against mine, pushing me back against the wall. "Nothing innocent about you," he hissed, nipping at my bottom lip, groaning as I tried to suck on his tongue. "Dirty little boy."

            I'd just meant to tease him with the term. I hadn't expected it to be so hot to hear those words on his lips. I whimpered against his mouth and let my hips grind up against his, craving more sensation "Oh fuck, yes. Your boy. Always. Frank...."

            "Dear god, you try my self control," he whispered, pressing a firm kiss to my mouth before pulling back, his eyes dark in the dim light of my apartment. "I should go...."

            "Stay..." I drew him back to me, claiming his lips with my own and meeting no resistance. I groaned as his hands stroked over my ass and up my back, broad and warm through my clothes, arching and grinding against the hardness I could feel through his slacks. "Fuck, please. Need you so bad...."

            "Can't," he returned, easing back from me with obvious reluctance, one hand on my chest to keep me in place. "I need to go."

            I bit my lip on a sigh of disappointment. "Stay a little longer... it's not sex if we still have our clothes on, right?"

            Frank laughed softly and shook his head. "Little minx," he murmured, voice warm and fond, and brushed my lips with his thumb. "Goodnight, Leon. Sleep well."

            "But it's been two weeks...."

            Frank gave a little nod, leaning in to kiss my earlobe, voice low and warm. "Soon, my boy. I promise. Now go get into bed like a good boy and think about me while you stroke yourself like I know you will."

            "Oh god...." I went limp against the wall at his words, so turned on that it took every inch of willpower to keep from jumping him. "And you say I test _your_ willpower?"

            "It's true," he replied, pressing the briefest kiss to my lips before pulling away. "Goodnight."

            "Goodnight," I echoed, then slipped into my bedroom and proceeded to do just what he'd told me to.

 

 

            Frank wasn't in the studio when I got in the next morning, but there was a small box sitting on top of my bass case, a post it note on the tip with my name on it. Curious, I opened it to find about a dozen wooden bass picks, each bearing a small note with the name of the wood:  Lignum Vitae, Cherry, Macassar Ebony, Bocote, East Indian Rosewood. There was also a small wooden box with a sliding lid that looked big enough to carry two or three picks. The picks were satin smooth to the touch apart from the pair of f-holes that were drilled into them, putting me in mind of an upright bass or a cello. For a moment I could only stare. I preferred thicker, stiffer bass picks - they gave me more control and gave a clearer tone, but while I'd heard very good things about wooden picks I'd never ordered any myself....

            Frank came in with a box of muffins, setting them on the table and quirking an eyebrow at my wide-eyed stare. "Good morning. Is everything all right?"

            "It's too much," I found myself saying. It had to be nearly a hundred dollars worth of merchandise....

            Frank smiled and gave his head a little shake, crossing the room to me. "Not at all. I thought you might like the tone, it tends to be a lot warmer than plastic. Try them out today when we work on 'Spirals' and see which you like best."

            "Thank you," I managed, still dazed, my mind finally clearing when he leaned in to press a soft kiss to my ear.

            "Fifteen days, Leon," he murmured, and I smiled to myself. He was counting, too.

 

  
            The Baltimore gig was a two night affair near the inner harbour in the entertainment district at a joint called Ram's Head Live: a combination bar and live house with a massive capacity. The Chester Stevens band had sold out both nights, though I liked to think we had a little to do with it. We played two of The Reflections songs and four of our own, and the crowd was just as enthusiastic for us as they were in New York. When we went out to the merchandise area afterward to help sell the table was mobbed by people wanting t-shirts and singles and signatures, and not just from Ben and Larry. I even signed one girl's cleavage.

            "We have to get an album out before we headline anything like this," I heard Frank say to Ben behind me, and he nodded.

            "Just book us in to this place next time, this venue is great."

            Frank brought another stack of CDs up to me just as I finished signing the front of a guy's t-shirt in sharpie - a white, old-fashioned medical syringe on black cotton, and we'd designed it with more than enough room on the syringe to get all our signatures on it. Frank leaned in close as he set the stack down on the table, his voice warm and low by my ear. "Be back in your room by midnight."

            Oh god yes.

            I grinned, replying teasingly, "Yes sir," just to see him smile.

            Ben and Larry slipped back in to the venue to see the headliners, changing into street clothes and disappearing into the crowd with strict instructions from Frank not to do anything that was bad for PR or illegal. Frank took the costumes and our more irreplaceable gear back to the hotel with a couple of the roadies we'd hired for the night, leaving John and I and our merch girl to work the table. Ben and Larry joined us again at the end of the show, packing up and selling more CDs on the way out.

            "We're going to go hit up a couple of bars," Larry told us as we locked the last box of CDs back in our dressing room. "This area's a lot of fun at night. You want to come with?"

            I shook my head. "I'm pretty tired, I'm going to catch some sleep."

            "Leon has to polish his bass," John informed them with a grin, laughing at my reddened cheeks and patting my back. "Don't worry, jailbait, I'm headed back there too. You guys have fun."

            "Likewise," Ben replied with a grin, happy and relaxed. I was sure he'd already had a couple of beers, and we were all riding high on the elation of a great performance.

            "Why are you really heading back?" John asked when we'd settled in a cab. "You feeling okay?"

            "Yeah, I just had a late night last night before we left," I lied, and shrugged. "You?"

            John gave a small smile, strangely sweet and completely unlike the teasing grins I normally got from him. "Just promised a friend back home that I'd call."

            "A friend?" I quirked an eyebrow.

            "Just a friend," he replied, leaning back in his seat, still smiling.

            "I don't suppose this friend is the reason you haven't been hitting the bars lately?"

            John glanced over with a quirk of an eyebrow. "You haven't been either. Why is that?"

            "Crabs," I replied without hesitation, which sent him into peals of laughter.

            The cab pulled up to the hotel, and John passed the fare over to the cabbie before I could. He threw his arms around me as we walked up to the hotel, giving a firm smooch to my cheek. "You're perfect for this band, you know. We have the perfect band."

            "We do," I agree with a smile, half returning the embrace as we stepped into the elevator.

            John disappeared to his room with a cheery goodnight, and I lost no time in heading to mine, slipping my key card into the lock and stepping inside. It was five minutes shy of midnight, and I hadn't heard from Frank other than his instructions earlier. I assumed that he'd meet me here, and wondered if I should get in the shower to wash away the sweat and grime of the show.

            There was a small envelope on the floor just inside my hotel room door, however. I stooped to pick it up and found an envelope with a hotel room key card inside. The room number was printed on the envelope, along with Frank's neat writing. ' _Come as you are. I'll be waiting for you._ '

            Didn't have to tell me twice.

            I tucked the key card in my pocket and slipped out the door, glancing both ways to make sure the hallway was empty before heading back to the elevators. Then I hit the button for the fourteenth floor, clasped my hands behind my back and tried to be patient as the elevator started its slow ascent. The room wasn't difficult to find, and I slipped the key card into the lock and went inside.

            For a moment I just stood in the entry way and took it all in: A large, open room set up as a suite with a bed, a seating area, and a large marble jetted tub half set into the floor that was overflowing with bubbles. Dim lighting from the bedside lamps was augmented by plates of candles flickering on the marble around the tub. A bottle of champagne in an ice bucket also sat beside the tub and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries. A huge bouquet of what must be two dozen white roses sat on the table beside the bed.

            And Frank, sitting in one of the armchairs, taking off his glasses and setting them aside with a book as he stood, watching me. Smiling. The jacket of his suit had been draped over the back of the chair, leaving him in his waistcoat and shirt, just as handsome as ever.

            The tickle of excitement that had been quivering in the pit of my stomach turned into full blown thrill, and it wasn't even completely sexual. "Wow."

            Frank crossed the room to me, tugging me out of the entry way after I'd toed off my shoes to leave them beside his. He slid broad hands around my waist, pulling me into his embrace as he nuzzled my hair. "I told you I'd make it worth the wait."

            I closed my eyes, sliding my arms up around his neck and melting into his warmth. "Just being with you is worth the wait. You didn't have to go to so much trouble...."

            "I wanted to," he replied, beginning to trail slow kisses along my jaw. "Told you... I'm old fashioned. First times should be special."

            "Already is," I replied, then drew back a little. "Did you think it wouldn't be special if we didn't wait?"

            "No..." Frank paused, glancing away. "I just... I wanted you to be able to call this off before we got serious if you changed your mind about me. If we weren't compatible."

            "You wanted to make sure I was serious about this?"

            He gave a little sheepish smile and a nod. "Figured you wouldn't stick around for a month if you were still just after sex. I don't take love lightly, Leon. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me. You know that, don't you?"

            I nodded, feeling my heart pound almost painfully hard at his words, and drew him close, arching up to claim his lips in a kiss. "Me too, Frank."

            Frank gave a soft, appreciative hum against my mouth, hands stroking up and down my back, over my hips to cup my ass. "My boy," he murmured softly, and I gave a soft whimper at the rush of arousal it awoke in me.

            "Yes," I breathed, drinking in his kisses, nipping lightly at his bottom lip. "Oh yes. Always your boy. Oh god, Frank, say that again...."

            "You want to be my boy, Leon?" His hands slipped up under my t-shirt as he trailed warm kisses along my jaw, nipping gently at the soft skin just under my ear. "Protected and cherished and spoiled and possessed?"

            "God yes." I slipped my hands to the buttons of his shirt under his tie, starting to tug them undone, craving the touch of his bare skin after all this time. "And fucked. God, please."

            Frank gave a little approving noise, drawing my t-shirt off over my head. "I did say spoiled, didn't I?" He caught my mouth again, kisses hungrier as his hands smoothed over my bare back and sides, finally slipping to help me with the buttons of his vest and shirt. He pulled back just enough to loosen his tie and pull it off over his head, his mouth on mine again even as I pushed the shirt and vest off his shoulders, stealing my breath with kisses and leaving me with no doubt as to his desire for me. The touch of his hands to my bare skin sent shivers of sensation through me, made me ache for more as I arched against him, pressing our hips together and feeling him already hard through his slacks. I freed a hand from my caress of his back and shoulders to cup him through his pants, smiling at the soft hiss it drew from his throat.

            "Let’s take advantage of the bath before it cools," I murmured, tugging at his belt to pull his slacks open. He pushed my hands away though, bending to press a kiss to my chest as he tugged open my jeans. He kissed a trail down my midline, easing my jeans and boxers down over my thighs, slipping to his knees to press a kiss to my hip. His hands stroked up my sides and over my chest then down again, teasing the length of my body.

            "You're beautiful, you know," he murmured, looking up at me as he leaned in to nuzzle my erection, grey eyes clear. Gorgeous.

            I felt my heart stop for a moment, and stroked my fingers through his hair. "You make me feel that way."

            Frank smiled, placing a soft kiss to the head of my cock, and I gave a soft moan at the feel of his lips. "Good. Bath?"

            I nodded and stepped out of my pants, perching on the edge of the marble tub surround while I watched him step out of his. He set them on the armchair with my own before crossing to the bath, fingers brushing my cheek as he steps past and into the water. "Come here, my boy."

            I slipped into the bath to kneel over his legs, catching his mouth with my own as his hands came up to pull me closer. The bath was just a little too hot, but my body adjusted quickly, focused only on Frank and the feel of our bodies pressed together, bare skin slick and warm under the water, his cock hard and thick against my stomach. Things weren't quite as frantic now that I knew I could have him, but it was no less intense, feeling his hands travel hungrily over my thighs and hips, stroking my back, wet fingers tangling in my hair. I let my hips rock against his, craving more contact. "Please. Whatever you want, Frank, can do anything you want to me, oh god please...."

            "Anything?" His voice was low and throaty, and before I could react I found myself pushed back against the other side of the tub, Frank kneeling between my thighs. His mouth was hot on my throat, nipping at my collarbone, the shiver of pain only adding to the intensity of it all. Before I knew it he'd pulled my hips up onto his knees, leaning down to take my cock in his mouth.

            "Fuck - !" My hips bucked up into his mouth before I could stop myself, my hands scrabbling at the sides of the tub for purchase. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Frank...."

            A low hum around me was his only reply, one arm still hooked around my hips to hold me in position as he moved on me, his mouth hot and wet and perfect, tongue teasing me in all the right ways. His free hand stroked over my stomach and one thigh, cupping my balls and tugging on them gently, fingers slick with the water, teasing the sensitive skin behind. I wouldn't last long like this, but maybe it was better that way - take the edge off so that I could really enjoy everything he wanted to do to me.

            I stopped thinking about it when Frank took me deep into his throat, moaning softly around me. I couldn't think about anything but the feel of his mouth, his hands on my skin, my body arched tense and trembling. I managed to gasp my immanent climax, but Frank only hummed encouragingly, swallowing me down again, the slick heat of his mouth pulling me over the edge. He was more attentive than any lover I'd had before, sucking me gently, working with the tense little bucks of my hips as I came in his mouth, easing me through orgasm. Then he pulled back slowly, licking gentle stripes up my cock before lowering me gently back down into the water, pressing close to me.

            I wound my arms up around his neck, still breathless and faintly quivering from pleasure, needing to be close to him. "Oh god. Oh god, Frank...."

            "Absolutely delicious," he murmured, dropping warm kisses to my neck before I turned to catch his mouth with my own. I could taste myself on his lips, and it sent a lazy rush of desire through me.

            "You're amazing," I replied softly, stroking fingers through his hair, feeling warm and relaxed and completely boneless in post-orgasmic bliss and the heat of the bath. "Want to fuck me like this, lover? Right here?"

            Frank gave a low groan as my hand slipped down to curl around his cock, stroking slowly. His lips were warm on my own, slow and languid despite his obvious arousal. "Bed first." He climbed from the bath, grabbing a towel from the pile on the side and wrapping it around his waist before holding another out to me. I could see him watch me hungrily as I stood, eyes following the water as it ran off my body before wrapping the towel around me, his hands strong as he dried me, pulling me back to the bed and turning down the covers. His breath was warm against my ear. "Lay down on a pillow for me."

            I did so, wrapping my arms around the pillow and looking up at him with a grin, wiggling my ass. "Going to fuck me into the bed?"

            "In time." Frank's body was warm and secure as he blanketed me, mouthing at the back of my neck and my shoulder, cock hard against my ass. I shivered and rocked back against him, giving a little appreciative moan at the feel of his weight against me. He kissed down my spine, seeming to want to cover every inch of me with his hands and mouth, soft, gentle touches that slowly woke my body's arousal again. I held my breath as he reached my ass, nuzzling between my thighs before drawing his tongue up the crack with a slow moan, licking slowly over my entrance before swirling around it, teasing me with the tip of his tongue.

            "Oh god..." The sensation was strange, but at the same time so good, and I couldn't help but arch back for more, toes curling under in pleasure as he continued. It was far different from being fingered, and when his tongue breached me it drove an almost embarrassingly needy moan from my mouth. I was hard again in no time, half whimpering as I gasped for breath, his fingers teasing my cock and balls gently as he continued to fuck me in slow, wet thrusts, pulling back to lick around me before doing it again.

            "Fuck me," I gasped, shivering, craving more. I felt mindlessly turned on, needing the feel of his cock inside me, the ache of being filled by him. "Oh god please, Frank, fuck me. Need it, please...."

            "Shhh..." his breath was soft against my skin, and he pressed a kiss to the small of my back. Fingers slick with lube that I didn't remember him grabbing eased inside me, fucking and stretching me, crooking to rub up against my prostate. He urged my thighs farther apart, nuzzling the back of my neck. "Just like this, Leon?"

            He could have fucked me hanging from the chandelier and I would have agreed to it at that point. My actual reply was a much less coherent whimpered affirmative. He pulled back long enough to roll on a condom, then I felt the slick head of his cock press against me, easing deeper in slow thrusts as my body stretched around him.

            "Leon...." Frank's voice was rough with emotion. His hips rocked against me slowly, letting me adjust to the penetration, and when one of his hands slipped under the pillow to curl around mine it was trembling. "Oh god, Leon. My boy."

            I gave a whimpering moan and rocked back against him, maddened by the pace, every inch of me heated and aching with the pleasure he brought. I twined my fingers with his and held on tightly, bucking back against him as much as I could. "Oh yes. So good," I gasped, eyes shut tight to the pleasure. "So big. Ohh fuck, Frank...!"

            "Perfect." Frank gave a harder thrust, then another at my cry of pleasure, slowly picking up the pace. "Feel so good, love. So tight."

            The position left me almost helpless under him, blanketed by his warmth and pinned down by his weight. I loved it, though, crying out with each thrust as he filled me, hitting against my prostate to send a flood of sensation through me and pressing my aching cock into the mattress. I curled my toes up against the mattress for purchase, thighs trembling, trying to rock up against him. "Oh fuck, more - !"

            Frank answered my plea wordlessly, driving into me harder and faster, so intense I could hardly catch my breath. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more he slowed again, hips pressed to mine, just barely moving inside me with slow rocks. At my almost pained whimper he chuckled breathlessly, kissing just under my ear and along my jaw until I turned my face into his kisses, lips parting to the swipe of his tongue. "Love you, my beautiful boy," he murmured, moving a little harder, giving a low, appreciative groan at my gasp of pleasure. He let more of his weight rest on the forearm that was pressed under my pillow, his free hand sliding around my hips, pushing under me to encircle my cock, and each hard thrust of his hips drove me into his grip.

            "Don't stop," I gasped, torn between grinding back against him and pressing into his hand, and in the end I just gave in, letting him take full control. Frank's breath was hot against my skin, face pressed to the back of my neck as our bodies came together again and again until I was faintly shuddering with the need to come.

            "Let go," he murmured, voice thick with passion. "Come for me, love.”

            It pulled me undone completely, sensation cresting, passion shivering through my body in hard shocks, in sparks up my spine and behind clenched shut eyes and I bucked up against him desperately even as my seed spilled slick in his fingers. I felt his control break, fingers clenching my hand even harder as his hips jerked into me, a surprisingly helpless cry from his lips as he came inside me.

            I couldn't move for a long moment, still clenching his hand tightly, gasping for breath. I didn't want to move away from this feeling of warmth and well being and complete satisfaction. Frank's lips pressed to my shoulder, warm and almost reverent, nuzzling my skin in silent worship. "I love you," I whispered, and felt him shudder against me before pressing a kiss to the corner of my jaw.

            "Love you so much, Leon."

            Afterward I drew him back with me to the bath, which was still quite warm, turning on the jets and curling up with him in languid relaxation. We fed each other ice cold champagne and the chocolate covered strawberries, trading warm, indulgent kisses.

            "Was it worth waiting for?" Frank asked with a little smile, nuzzling my cheek.

            I gave a little happy moan, stroking a hand over his chest under the water, letting my fingers trail through the silvering curls of hair. "Entirely. You definitely know how to spoil a boy."

            Frank gave a warm, lazy chuckle bringing a hand up to stroke through my hair. "Good. It's been a while since I've been in an actual relationship, so... I'm glad you liked it. I was a little jaded for a while." His lips pressed warm to my forehead. "I'm glad I found you."

            "You're the perfect gentleman," I replied affectionately, tilting my face up to his for another kiss.

            "You hungry? We can order room service if you like...."

            It was a decadent thought, and I nodded. "And after that, I want you to sit on that nice couch so I can ride you like a cowboy."

            Frank's eyes narrowed slightly, appreciatively, and he nodded. "Anything you want, love."  
  
  
            I awoke sometime near dawn from dreams of performing, of playing my Godin with a bow to a trio of violinists while Frank watched from the eves in a formal tux. I slipped out of Frank's arms carefully, perching at the hotel desk and drawing lines on the stationary, humming the melody under my breath and noting it down, scribbling thoughts about guitar chords and the bass line, repetitions on the chorus. I knew how to do this, I'd done plenty of composition work in school, but it had felt like going through the motions. Very little of it had really felt inspired until now. It would be deep and sexy, the kind of song you could head bang to, trailing off to a haunting chorus with the violins....

            "I didn't know you liked to compose." Frank's voice behind me startled me, and I looked up at him with a smile.

            "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. Just woke up with this stuck in my head."

            Frank leaned down to wrap his arms around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my hair. He looked over my notes, humming a few bars and giving a little nod. "It's good. You should take it to Ben, see what you two can come up with."

            "I will," I agreed, snuggling back into him. "And I promise I won't tell anyone how I found my muse."

***


End file.
